Your Goose Is Cooked (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery)

by S. Dionne Moore

  Flossie pulled a turquoise sweater from a basket at her feet and folded it. “Betsy’s always talking.” She stood straight, her gaze shot off over my shoulder and her expression shifted, became crafty, a side of Flossie I’d never seen before. “She wants George to buy this house so she can make commission. And she was getting money on the side to keep people away from buying that property by the school too. Make sure and tell Chief about that. She’s been doing it for months. Anyone who expressed curiosity, they would suddenly lose interest.” Flossie fluffed her hair and tugged on the gray tank top she wore.

  “Come again?”

  Flossie was warming to her subject. “She was getting nervous though. Something was going wrong. She was getting nervous and those guys kept showing up at the office. Then Eugene fired Molly.” She pressed her lips together as if realizing she was saying too much. I suspected there might be another, more incriminating side to this story. One that involved Flossie Monroe. “She says she wants to get away from Eugene,” she shrugged, to emphasize how much she disbelieved the notion.

  I eyed the basket, there was one more sweater in it, the arms hanging over the sides of the basket. I had to smoke her out now, while she wasn’t pushing to leave yet. Trying to slow her down when she was in the car would be suspicious. And impossible.

  I wanted real bad to look over my shoulder and see if Chief was in place, but knew I wouldn’t be able to see him whether he was or not.

  “I heard rumors she was after George, but I think she was really after Aidan.” I made my eyes real wide. “She’s just crazy enough to do something like shoot someone.”

  Something in Flossie’s eyes went cold. She leaned to pick up the last sweater and made quick work of folding it before smoothing it and folding down the flaps on the box.

  I tensed. I knew what I had seen. Flossie understood my question wasn’t casual. “No. Betsy wouldn’t shoot someone. She uses her tongue to kill.” Her words came out flat, matter-of-fact. She picked up the empty basket and fit it into the only open space in her trunk.

  “Don’t you stay away too long.” I took a step back. “Oh, and you missed the action over at the library. Eddie and Roger roughed up Eugene Taser. They were trying to get him to sign a withdrawal from his bank account so they could make off with the money. He said that Aidan was laundering money through the jewelry store and into Eugene’s account.”

  “That’s terrible.” Her tone belied her words. Flat. Humorless. Tough.

  I continued. Pushing while I had the chance. “We’re thinking Carl was in cahoots with Aidan on a scheme to steal jewelry, make a fake, and sell the real pieces.”

  Flossie’s eyes flicked over the landscape behind me. She licked her lips. “Carl might need money if he wants to buy this house. You know how much he loved this place.”

  My eyes scanned her hard. She was still, eyes flicking. Scanning behind me.

  I smiled. That’s when she made a quick move into her trunk. In a second, a gun was trained on me.

  That’s when Hardy broke through the hedge, hollering like a man on fire. I threw my elbow into Flossie’s stomach, clamped onto her wrist and squeezed until she dropped the gun. Hardy, steamrolling toward us, made a flying leap onto Flossie and taking her to the ground. I straightened in time to see Chief round the corner, his gun out and aimed at Flossie.

  “I’ve got her, Hardy,” Chief announced.

  Flossie let out the scream of a banshee and broke down into sobs.

  “He told me he didn’t love me.” Her words slid out. Chief got her on her feet and took control of her. Mac got there seconds later.

  Hardy crept up beside me and tucked his head under my chin. “No way was I going to let her shoot you.”

  I spread my hand on his back and pulled him close. “You sounded like some maniac tearing out of those shrubs.”

  He raised his head. “Nah, I’m your hero.”

  I kissed his head. “You’ve got a mighty fine motor under that hood, Hero. Mighty fine.”

  Epilogue

  Betsy had suspected something between Flossie and Aidan. She confessed to inflating fees, hoping George and Elizabeth would be her next victims. She also admitted to being infatuated with George, dreaming of running away from Maple Gap, and trying to coax him into leaving Elizabeth.

  To her credit, she got worried about Eugene when Eddie and Roger started putting pressure on him to get rid of Molly. Betsy made the call to Michael Nooseman, knowing he would contact the chief. The warning that went to the Denver reporter was after Eddie and Roger had lured her into making the call, playing up the idea as a great boost to Eugene’s campaign since it would gain him sympathy votes. They had planned to plant incriminating bits of evidence that would lead the police to believe Lester Riley was the person behind calling the hit.

  Eddie and Roger, from what we can gather, knew Aidan and Flossie had something going and probably that she had pulled the trigger. By doing this, they hoped Chief would pay closer attention to Flossie, gaining them extra time to intimidate Eugene into signing the withdrawal slip and leaving town. Which is almost exactly what happened. They haven’t been found yet.

  My heart goes out to Carl, the innocent in all this. His feelings for Flossie were not only unrequited, but misled. Flossie will be in prison for a long time for the murder of Aidan Abbett. Carl was devastated over her betrayal, saddened by the choices the woman he loved had made. I have no doubt now that he really had harbored hopes of getting back together with her. Randy Holbraker is supplying Carl with a welcome diversion, and I do believe Carl is enjoying teaching and sharing his expertise with the young man. Who knows, maybe he’ll take Randy on as partner someday.

  Flossie had a long story about Aidan, blaming him for forcing her to pull the trigger. She claims he double-crossed her. At the beginning of their little operation, Aidan had vowed to split the sale of the jewelry fifty-fifty, provided she was willing to help lift the jewelry from Carl’s prosperous clients. Flossie, always having a taste for expensive things and a shopping channel habit, did her part. At some point in the relationship, Flossie started falling for him. He, in turn, started cutting her percentage, telling her he’d pay her back later, to trust him, and a bunch of other old lines that Flossie fell for like a sack of bad potatoes.

  That, coupled with her jealousy over his inattention when Eddie and Roger came to town, got the ball rolling for her to contemplate revenge. She took to carrying her father’s old service revolver. The day Aidan got shot, Flossie had prepared to have it out with him once and for all, demanding the money he owed her so she could leave town. When she went out the back entry and saw Aidan coming out of the Goose, she’d been prepared. He pulled her deeper into the alley and away from prying eyes, but his confession that he didn’t love her, and had none of the promised money, sent Flossie over the edge. Shocked by what she’d done and the sight of so much blood, she fled into the funeral home. Only after the state police cleared the alley did Flossie feel that it was safe to dispose of the gun in Betsy’s Dumpster.

  Dr. Cryer won’t see his mother’s necklace ever again, but now that the mystery of the fake jewels is cleared up, he’ll get the insurance money as soon as he files the police report. For now, Dr. Cryer and Carl have made peace, regaining a decades old friendship.

  The state police discovered that Eddie, Roger, and Aidan were known thieves who had used many aliases and had possible mob connections. They think they were trying to infiltrate Maple Gap through Eugene in order to get their hands on the land and turn it into a landfill. Makes me extra glad townsfolk shot down the idea. But defeat apparently didn’t come easy and the three hatched another plan and waved some money under Eugene and Betsy’s noses.

  Mayor Riley was horrified to know how deep Eugene had gotten with those thieves, and how close Maple Gap had become to being the new landfill location. He’s enjoying being mayor. He’s open and honest and is willing to listen to arguments for and against his ideas. We truly are in good hands with Mayor Riley,
though I think he misses his cows.

  Chief and I tried to piece together the redhead-in-the-blue-car incident. The license plate hadn’t helped much, only verifying that these guys were crooks, since the registration showed a false name. But without being able to question Eddie and Roger directly, and without being able to find the ladies, the best we can guess is my near miss was an unfortunate accident. There’s no way they knew my reputation as an armchair detective and they had no way of knowing I was working on the crime.

  We’re settling back into a peaceful routine, Hardy and I, enjoying watching the budding romance of Sasha Blightman and Lionel Bailmout. I’ve never seen Sasha’s car need so many repairs, and if that didn’t beat all, I saw her in a sweater streaked with grease the other day, Lionel at her side. It made my heart smile.

  William is being tested and prodded. He hates every minute of it, but has really blossomed under the attention he gets from Elizabeth, Hardy, and me. He’s teaching Elizabeth and me all about bread making, and considering opening up a little shop inside the store that used to be Aidan’s Jewelry. It sure would be nice to have a bakery in Maple Gap again.

  As for Hardy and I, we enjoyed our fortieth anniversary, celebrating with all our babies and grandbabies in attendance. What really tickled our funny bones is finding out how Hardy, in his call to Bryton, had asked his oldest son to get everyone together to have a surprise party for me, not knowing that I was doing the same through Shayna. We all had a good laugh over that, capping off the entire celebration with good food and lots of love.

  The fund-raiser went off without a hitch the following day. We canned hot pepper relish, stirred up pots of chili, one of chicken and noodles, and one of stew. We had loaves of William’s bread in every flavor possible, auctioning them off. And that chocolate babka? It’s delicious! I nibbled enough to get a taste, but seeing the way all the children gobbled it up let me know truly how good it was, plus it brought the highest bid—fifty-nine dollars!

  Beautiful weather and good advertising brought people out from Denver in crowds. We had private donations and some from businesses, enough to raise almost eight thousand dollars for the Buchanans. It was my privilege to present them the check and hold Elizabeth tight as she cried into my shoulder. The amount won’t cover everything, but it’s a start, and with all the offers of sponsorship that are coming in, we’ve decided to do it again in the fall.

  After we presented the check, my oldest boy took the stage. He shocked me and Hardy speechless by sharing with everyone about his experiences growing up and how we’ve made such a positive impact on their lives. The applause and cheers brought tears to my eyes and a hot blush to my cheeks. I don’t do praise. Just when I thought I couldn’t stand another bit of joy, Bryton announced that in honor of our fortieth anniversary, he and his siblings were giving us a surprise.

  An all-expenses-paid surprise.

  I’m dictating this from the deck of the Fair Lady en route to the Mediterranean. Hardy is stretched out beside me working on his suntan, whatever that means for a black man. I think he’s just basking in the peace of knowing he’s on vacation for the next twenty-five days. Rome, Venice, Sicily, I plan on enjoying every minute of this wonderful gift, despite the fact there is a rumor going around that some lady jumped overboard last night for no apparent reason. I’ve been keeping an eye on her husband. He’s sure acting the part of grieving widower, but the tears seem to come on real sudden-like. Too sudden-like, if you get my meaning, and I think I saw him huddled at a table one night, late, with another woman. Hm . . .

  About the Author

  S. Dionne Moore writes the LaTisha Barnhart Mystery series, LaTisha is the creator. Together they inspire one another to greatness, both in faith and fiction. S. Dionne can still do an entire week of laundry in a day. . .aren’t you impressed? Besides writing, she is also a choir director, homeschooler, and the sole organizer of organization. Born and raised in Northern Virginia, she is a city girl with a small-town heart transplant who no longer has to take anti-rejection drugs! You can read more about her at her Website, www.sdionnemoore.com

  About Spyglass Lane

  Spyglass Lane Mysteries is a collection of Christian cozy mysteries—modern-day whodunnits with colorful characters and plenty of wholesome romance.

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